


a milliner's fancy

by ruieee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, M/M, Oikawa Tooru is Bad at Feelings, akaashi is a scarecrow lmao, bokuaka if u squint - Freeform, both book and movie elements, iwaizumi is just in love okay yall, iwaoi are idiots, kageyama is dumb but cute, many creative liberties were taken, matsuhana are good friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruieee/pseuds/ruieee
Summary: When Iwaizumi Hajime is turned into a seventy-year-old man, there are only three things he can be completely sure of-1.	His life is no fairytale.2.	Oikawa Tooru is nothing but trouble.3.	Happy endings are overrated.or, the IwaOi Howl's Moving Castle AU that no one asked for
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 39
Kudos: 40





	1. market chipping is almost a fairytale

Iwaizumi grows up in a town named Market Chipping.

It’s a perfectly pleasant sort of town, with the required bakeries, tailors, grocers, and all of that sort (Seijoh for the breads, but Dateko for the cakes). The flowers grow to just the right length, thanks to the talented Sugawaras, and the houses are built with reliable red brick. (At this point, he’s pretty sure that the Sawamuras practically live and breathe red dust.) The streets gleam, the sun shines, and the people sing.

In a town so quaint and quiet, like something straight out of a fairy tale, it probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that the good folk of Market Chipping believe with all their hearts in a happy ending. The belief is something that’s whispered into every cobblestone that lines the winding paths and alleys.

On festival days they sing into every founding brick of the town’s houses, read their hopes into the history tomes of the local school, the folklore of it all binding the town and its inhabitants together.

It’s the kind of success story that’s taught to Iwaizumi as he grows up. Over the years, Iwaizumi comes to realise that Market Chipping exists in just the right sort of space for them to be able to flourish- with a dash of adventure suited to the wide-eyed villager, yet humble enough for the weary traveller.

The town is a pretty little sight to all those Kingsbury men and women who hurry down from the capital, dashing suits and sprightly gowns rumpled with travelling and desperate for a “quaint getaway”. If he closes his eyes, he can practically recite their route by heart, even tell them the fastest way to get to each of their destinations- the trick is pretty much just to ignore the main roads and go for the dusty alleys tucked away behind the prettier buildings.

He’ll answer their questions patiently, throw in a quick line about the Iwaizumis’ hats, watch them hurry off into the distance. Then he will go back into the dim warmth of the shop and tuck himself behind the counter, pick up his kit, and start to make the hats his family is famous for.

On a day when the sun hides behind the clouds, Iwaizumi Hajime sits in his shop and dreams.

He hasn’t seen his parents in a while, he thinks, as he absentmindedly finishes up a bowler hat in dark crimson velvet. The last they’d written, they were somewhere across the country, attaching with the letter a bolt of pure Chinese silk that they said would look fantastic on their dear Hajime.

Iwaizumi thinks of the Chinese silk and thinks of how little his parents know of him. That he could never wear something quite so exciting, or something so unlike him. He looks down at his drab blue cotton shirt and fingers the frayed hem with some distaste.

He turns his attention back to the bowler hat. It’s not a particularly exciting shape- a little out of fashion, even, but he thinks he knows what he’d like for it.

“You’ll be devoted, won’t you?” He hums to the hat, absentmindedly turning it this way and that to check for loose threads.

“Kinda intense though,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “so you’d better not scare off the ones you love. But you’ll still be happy, in the end.”

Satisfied with his work, Iwaizumi places the hat on the counter, intending to place it somewhere more prominent just as soon he eats his lunch. But the door whooshes open with an impatient ring of the little bell attached to the frame (before he can decide whether he wants a Seijoh sandwich or a Dateko shortcake, _the audacity_ ), and Kageyama Tobio storms in with the weight of the world on his brow. Or, as Iwaizumi looks closer- probably just the weight of a love with nowhere to go.

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kageyama grits out through his teeth.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at his young neighbour and attempts to do his best impression of an unruffled and sagely old man.

“Yes?”

Kageyama is a good kid, and Iwaizumi knows this because he practically raised him. More mature in some ways, even, than Iwaizumi’s own brothers- though Koutarou and Tetsurou would probably have a fit if they’d heard that. But on days like these, when Kageyama stomps around and glowers at anyone who as much dares to look his way, Iwaizumi is reminded that Kageyama is really just an 18-year-old boy.

“I can’t find him.” Kageyama mutters, looking down at his boots, hands twisted together awkwardly in a facsimile of Iwaizumi when he can’t find the right words for his hats. It’s a little sad, Iwaizumi thinks, that Kageyama had to copy this one out of all his mannerisms. He musters up a smile for Kageyama anyway, clamps a hand on a broad shoulder (wow, when did Tobio grow up this fast), and asks-

“That Hinata boy?”

Kageyama flushes a deep, deep, red that goes all the way down his neck and probably more. He nods.

“And you know people are saying Oikawa is near our town, and I’m just worried, no- not worried, just mildly concerned that an idiot like him will get himself kidnapped by Oikawa.” He whispers all this while looking down- Iwaizumi thinks almost meanly that if he shrinks into himself any further, he’ll have to roll himself into a ball.

Iwaizumi sighs inwardly. He knows, of course, of the mysterious boy named Hinata that Kageyama had run into a couple of weeks ago while running around the outskirts of town. Kageyama had come into the shop after that encounter with a not-quite grin on his face, but his eyes couldn’t fool Iwaizumi, who’d watched _little Tobio_ grow up right next door. He hadn’t gone into details that day, only asked Iwaizumi if he knew of anyone named Hinata- _no first name? –_ with a head of flaming orange hair.

  
The Iwaizumis and Kageyamas had long settled in Market Chipping generations ago, so they knew most families- no Hinatas amongst them, and especially ones with orange hair. Iwaizumi knows that Kageyama knows this too. He glances again at Kageyama, whose face is still flushed a deep red- oh wait.

Iwaizumi takes a long, hard look at the red bowler hat sitting innocently on the counter. He hadn’t meant it for Kageyama, exactly, but he’d had an inkling that this would happen. He would also bet his 2nd best pair of boots that Hinata was a made-up name. Shrugging, he picks up the hat and pops it onto Kageyama’s head, who grunts in surprise.

“Free for you”, Iwaizumi tells him, “so stop moping and get your shit together. You know very well that those chairs aren’t going to make themselves, and Miwa-san’s already been around once to ask if I know what’s up with you.”

Kageyama’s face droops in disappointment, and Iwaizumi instantly softens. He turns around so that Kageyama won’t see the sudden grin on his face and says in the gruffest tone he can manage- “I spoke a happy ending into it. The hat, I mean.”

He hears, rather than sees, Kageyama light up with joy, a muffled _yes_ accompanied by what he guesses to be an excited punch into the air. Kageyama, he knows, is one of those people who believe in happy endings with their entire heart.

You’ll always be happy here, the people of Market Chipping proclaim, chests puffing with pride. Find your happy ending here, write your joyous tale here, sing your joyous song here. The tranquillity and beauty of the town is a testament to that, and Iwaizumi knows this.

He thinks of his own parents- absentminded, maybe, but still loving as ever after 17 years of marriage. Thinks of Koushi and Daichi’s wedding he’d just attended, 2 weekends ago- of how Koushi had glowed whenever Daichi looked at him, and the way Daichi had cried when Koushi handed him the gigantic bouquet he’d personally made.

Like Iwaizumi and Kageyama, Koushi and Daichi had grown up together. Unlike Iwaizumi and Kageyama, however, Koushi and Daichi were fated to be together. They were both the youngest son out of three in their respective families- gone through the whole running away from home to find their own way phase together, the awkward turned-into-a-frog-and-freed-by-true-love’s-kiss phase together, and then finally, met with the opposed-by-parents-due-to-differences-in-birth thing.

That one had been more of an obligation, if anything, because the Sawamuras might be richer than the Sugawaras, but they’d _known_ from the start about the destiny thing and had long welcomed Koushi as their son-in-law. Both sets of parents had bawled their eyes out at the wedding, so.

Here’s the thing- it’s not like Iwaizumi doesn’t believe in happy endings, after witnessing the ones around him. If anything, he’s long resigned himself to the fact that he’s happiest in the shop, speaking to his hats and crafting pretty little hats (or great big ones) for his customers. It’s just that, well, Iwaizumi sometimes wishes his ending wasn’t already written for him. As the solid, reliable, oldest son who would never let down anyone- destined to fade from your memory as soon as the book fell close.

Like most fairy tales, though, Iwaizumi knows that there’s no protesting against the great big cogs of fate. They churn throughout the night, even as Iwaizumi locks up the shop and falls into a restless sleep on the counter after Kageyama leaves with an ear-splitting smile on his face, promising to find this Hinata boy and shake the living daylights out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short for a first chapter for my first fic in 9 years but it is what is!


	2. if it was a dream, oh what a dream it was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi and Oikawa finally meet, and maybe it's love at first sight.

Awhile later, Iwaizumi wakes up with his cheek pressed to the counter and a debilitating cramp in his neck. He sits up groggily, gingerly massaging his neck- how the hell had he fallen asleep in the shop? He had been tired, yes, but not to the extent of falling asleep on the counter, and certainly not till developing a crick like he’s seventy. Stretching and wincing, Iwaizumi looks over to the French windows which let in the barest hint of moonlight, letting him know that it’s probably around 11- Market Chipping always manages to be softly lit, thanks to the streetlamps and a low-hanging moon.

He stands up properly, narrows his eyes and looks around more closely. Breathes in and-

“Stop hiding, you asshole.”

Iwaizumi hears the faintest wisp of a snicker right by his ear, _no he does not jump at all, thank you very much_ , and then there’s a click and all the lights in his shop blaze alive by themselves, fire flickering in the balmy breeze of the night. Iwaizumi turns, and oh-

_If this were a fairytale_ , Iwaizumi thinks to himself, _I would fall for those eyes_.

But this is not a fairytale, so Iwaizumi settles for his constipated angry face, which he’s been told works rather well.

“Who the fuck are you?” He barks, fists immediately clenching. Handsome strangers are a dime a dozen in the tales, but this is Market Chipping, and this is Iwaizumi’s family’s shop, and he’ll be damned before he lets some pretty boy waltz in and act like he’s got everything dancing in the palm of his hand with those overly-familiar eyes of his.

That calm brown gaze flits over everything in Iwaizumi’s shop- from the hats, to the stands, to the impressively high ceiling supported by beams hand-carved by Iwaizumi’s own grandfather, and then finally, over Iwaizumi himself. Iwaizumi realizes, with no small measure of _holy shit_ , that there’s appreciation in that gaze. Somewhere along the way that gaze turns into a straight up leer, and Iwaizumi’s rocking back on the balls of his feet to avoid this stranger who is all up in his personal space.

“I’m Oikawa. Tooru, if you must, but it’s just for you” the _Wizard of the Moving Castle_ leers and winks at Iwaizumi, who has a thousand questions running through his head, but chooses to ignore them in favour of pushing the _Wizard of the Moving Castle_ away. This pretty boy with a head of blonde waves and deep brown eyes, this Oikawa Tooru, is apparently the wizard who eats maidens’ hearts for breakfast. The very same man that mothers in Market Chipping warn their children of, of the man who defies happy endings. Who uses the love of maidens to power his ramshackle moving castle, terrorizing the peaceful towns of Ingary, or something like that.

Iwaizumi runs an eye over the man’s slim frame, definitely _not_ checking him out, and has a bit of a hard time picturing Oikawa Tooru doing anything so bloody.

“My eyes are up here, you know,” Oikawa drawls, leaning in dangerously near to Iwaizumi’s face. Iwaizumi concentrates very hard on not letting his face heat up, and says in a surprisingly steady tone that he’s proud of himself for-

“What do you want.”

Oikawa purses his lips, letting a hint of surprise slip through his otherwise relaxed demeanour, and picks up a hat displayed next to the window.

“Who have you been training under?” Oikawa asks, a piece of hair falling to obscure his eyes as he inspects the hat. Iwaizumi immediately feels defensive- the hat that Oikawa’s holding is one of his best creations, a newsboy cap trimmed in sky-blue satin and decorated with a single white edelweiss. It’s inspired by the cap that Daichi had commissioned for Koushi on his 16th birthday, right before they went on that find-your-own-way adventure thing.

Iwaizumi had taken _pains_ with the original cap, knowing that it was for one of his dearest friends from another dear friend- murmuring his hopes and wishes for a long and devoted love between the two over the many nights he’d spent making the hat. So why is Oikawa questioning his credentials, and _more importantly, why is he here?_

Even if he’s never been formally trained in the art of hat-making, Iwaizumi thinks that the Iwaizumi family’s long history of hat-making should be enough proof unto itself, and he tells Oikawa so. Who looks up from the hat very, very slowly, incredulity painted over his face.

“You mean you don’t know?” Pretty boy asks, arching a delicate eyebrow.

“What,” Iwaizumi snaps, feeling the irritation coil in his belly and a strange irrational urge to flick that lock of hair away from Oikawa’s face. It’s been a long day, and he’d like very much to curl up in bed and not think about Oikawa Tooru’s eyes.

“Wait,” he turns on Oikawa, “did you make me fall asleep?” Oikawa waves a hand airily and ignores his question.

“You gave Hinata the shock of his life, you know,” Oikawa rolls his eyes, “so I just had to come here for myself and see what the fuss was all about. Pretty powerful hat you gave Tobio-chan there, by the way.”

The shock rolls through Iwaizumi like lightning. _Oh, so Hinata wasn’t a fake name_ , he muses almost dizzily. Hinata is apparently somehow connected to Oikawa, and Kageyama has apparently located him, which means- Oikawa has seen Kageyama? All of the rumours surrounding Oikawa flash through Iwaizumi’s brain at once, and he turns stiffly to Oikawa.

The question must be evident on his face, because Oikawa scoffs, dangles the hat from his pinky.

“Oh please, I have much better taste than that. Haven’t you heard the rumours? I only eat maidens’ hearts. Your little friend is pretty much the furthest thing you can get from that. He’s also infuriating, by the way. Perfect match with that assistant of mine.”

“So Tobi- Kageyama found Hinata? Through you? How? And how did you find this shop?”

Iwaizumi thinks none of this really makes sense. It’s been what- four, five hours tops since he last saw Kageyama? And Hinata is apparently Oikawa’s assistant? How did Kageyama find Hinata? How the hell does Kageyama get himself into these things? Also, what did Oikawa mean by a powerful hat? Does he mean the hat that Iwaizumi had given to Kageyama? Most importantly, _when will Oikawa stop eyeing him like a piece of meat?_

“What’s your name, huh?” Oikawa ignores his question again, practically _purrs,_ and something in Iwaizumi’s brain short circuits- or at least he thinks so, because why else would he tell Oikawa his full name?

“Iwaizumi. Hajime,” he adds reluctantly, when he sees Oikawa open his mouth to protest the lack of a first name.

“Iwaizumi, huh? Iwa-chan, I insist that you call me Tooru.”

“Oikawa,” - _he called you Iwa-chan and told you to call him Tooru,_ his brain helpfully supplies, to which Iwaizumi pleasantly replies _shut up_ , “where is Kageyama?”

Oikawa looks away, a shifty expression flashing across his face- quick enough that Iwaizumi would have missed it if he weren’t looking so closely. Iwaizumi feels the beginnings of a little frisson of worry forming in his stomach, because Too- _Oikawa_ seems rather normal for someone who eats maidens’ hearts for breakfast, but what if he decides that Kageyama would make a nice little snack? Wait, does this Hinata boy eat hearts too? In a fit of possibly idiotic bravery, Iwaizumi moves to grab Oikawa, who swiftly dodges him to sit on the counter instead.

“Hinata’s taking good care of him, Iwa-chan. There’s no need to worry at all.”

“But-”

“Besides, weren’t you the one who spoke a happy ending into- I mean, isn’t Market Chipping pretty much the land of happy endings?”

Iwaizumi freezes up.

Of course, he’d spoken a happy ending into the bowler hat that he’d given Kageyama, and yes, Market Chipping is all about happy endings. He does this with all of his hats, day in and day out- at this point the hats are probably witness to more than half of the happy endings in Market Chipping. If the gods themselves decide that Kageyama is destined to meet Oikawa’s assistant, and maybe even fall in love with him, what can Iwaizumi really say? It’s all written in the books, a little voice whispers in his head. Who is Iwaizumi to defy fate, and who is he, really, to think that he can change anything?

He can barely find the words for his own story, as it is- Iwaizumi looks for his story in books, but they are always an afterthought. The grey, dull existence of the oldest child, doomed for failure or simply forgettable. A quiet afterthought best slotted into a corner of the ultimate happy ending. Kageyama is different- he’s always shone so brilliantly, the youngest son of the Kageyamas, so well known for their carpentry. Unlike Iwaizumi, though, Kageyama has no obligations to his family’s business. He’s free, Iwaizumki thinks. Free to find his own ending, to map it out from scratch- history will always have a place for someone like Kageyama, whom he believes will eke out a name for himself.

Iwaizumi looks up dully at Oikawa, so blinding in all of his brimming magic and confidence. There are definitely things he’s not telling Iwaizumi, but Kageyama is eighteen with a good head on his shoulders, so he doubts that Kageyama’s in any real danger. What good are secrets in a colourless, peaceful existence anyway? Iwaizumi’s long known where his happy ending is, anyway.

Oikawa must see something on Iwaizumi’s face, because he shifts abruptly, the bright smile melting away into something softer, something that’s a touch more sincere.

“You must know your own potential- that hat really was something you know. Most people haven’t been able to find the castle in a while, but Tobio-chan just walked right up to it bold as brass if you please, without as much a knock. Nearly gave Hinata a heart attack, while he was at it.”

Iwaizumi frowns- he’s not very good at keeping up with Oikawa’s train of thought, which barrels around the place like he owns it.

“So you’re saying Kageyama found Hinata because of the hat I made?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes again, “Yes, Iwa-chan. Have I not made that clear?”

“You haven’t made anything clear. Nothing! At all!” Iwaizumi hisses, feeling his temper starting to simmer. 

“Alright, how’s this?” Oikawa leaps off the counter he’s been sitting on, stalking near to Iwaizumi again.

“Come back to the castle and make a hat for me. I won’t tell you what to put in it- you can decide. I’ll pay you whatever you want too- I’m pretty rich, you know. And I won’t even ask you for your heart in return.” He grins like a cat who’s not only gotten his cream, but also in the process of devouring it- apparently satisfied and fully confident that Iwaizumi will accept his proposal.

Iwaizumi is too stunned to say anything for a brief moment- then his temper, which has been simmering at a low boil all this time, right from when this beautiful boy first ambushed him in his own shop and has been batting away at him like a particularly interesting toy ever since without any regard for Iwaizumi’s dignity, _sparks_ and finally boils over.

“Fuck no,” he replies flatly, “not even if you paid me my weight in gold, and some.”

Iwaizumi vindictively enjoys the satisfaction derived from watching the smirk slip off Oikawa’s face.

“But why?” Oikawa’s eyes are so, so wide, and he actually looks frustrated, blonde waves standing straight up in what Iwaizumi can only assume is an unfortunate(?) side effect of being a wizard.

“I just don’t want to. Anyway, you said Kageyama’s fine right? He’s a big boy now, he doesn’t need me to babysit him anymore.”

“Besides,” Iwaizumi murmurs, turning away from Oikawa to stare at his unfinished hats behind the counter, “I have a bunch of customers lined up over the next week. I don’t have time for this. For you, or whatever you want to think this is.” He waves a hand awkwardly at the blue pageboy cap that’s still in Oikawa’s hand.

“Kageyama’s smart. He probably tracked down Hinata by himself. They’re just hats.” He finishes up lamely.

Oikawa doesn’t say anything for a moment- just stares at Iwaizumi with that knowing gaze of his. Iwaizumi has to concentrate on not flushing again, though this time it’s not with the thrill of knowing that he’s being checked out. It’s something more vicious that burns his throat. It feels like shame, maybe.

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa. Watches as Oikawa straightens up, frustration replaced by that playful grin of his. Oikawa shrugs in a fluid movement of one slim shoulder, cocks his head to the side and says in that sweet, lilting tone-

“Goodbye then, Iwa-chan.”

Then he’s gone with a snap of his fingers.

Iwaizumi is left staring into the space where Oikawa had been standing. He realises belatedly that Oikawa has taken the hat with him. Thank god it isn’t a commissioned piece; he thinks rather dully. Is this what wizards do? Just whizz in and out, looking for unsuspecting milliners to terrorize in the name of fashion? Doesn’t Oikawa – _Tooru_ , his brain sighs longingly, have maidens to hunt down or something?

Now that he thinks about it again, he really can’t imagine Pretty Boy doing anything of that sort. If anything, Oikawa looks more like he’d steal hearts. Figuratively. Those maidens had probably thanked him while handing over their hearts, he thinks sourly. Does he even really eat hearts?

Iwaizumi decides that these aren’t the kind of questions he needs to be asking- nor does he need to know the answers. When he takes a look at the old brass clock on the counter, he realises with a start that it’s almost midnight, with no sign of Koutarou or Tetsurou, who really should be here to head home together by now. Sometimes, he thinks, he really doesn’t know how he got stuck with two siblings so different from him.

The door bangs open right then- from the way it bounces off the wall, likely chipping the paint (again), Iwaizumi knows that it’s Koutarou. Tetsurou would choose to fling the door open and stand there dramatically for a moment- but at least he wouldn’t allow the door to hit the wall _again_.

“HAJIME,” Koutarou wails, “A SCARECROW IS GOING TO KILL ME TONIGHT.”

Well, this is all very Koutarou and all, but a scarecrow? That’s a bit much, even for him- besides, who could hate Koutarou, one of Market Chipping’s biggest heartbreakers and heartbreak(ee)s, who falls in love at the drop of a hat?

There’s a low laugh from behind Koutarou- oh, so now they both show up, Iwaizumi thinks sourly. Tetsurou steps into the shop, dragging Koutarou in with him, and pats Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“He was running around on the outskirts just now and bumped into a scarecrow. Might have attempted to drag it home, and then gotten a kick in the face for his efforts. I found him lying in the gutter just now mumbling about a pretty scarecrow.”

“Sorry we’re late,” he adds as an afterthought. Iwaizumi just sighs and pushes all thoughts aside. _No thoughts head empty_ , he repeats to himself.

“Koutarou, stop it. The scarecrow won’t follow you back here- it’s probably just a product of the residual magic from Oikawa. I don’t think it’ll stay around for much longer.”

His two annoying brothers whip around to stare at him.

“Oikawa’s in town? How do you know that? Isn’t it just a rumour?” – This comes from Tetsurou, who raises an eyebrow at Iwaizumi, and is also way too perceptive for his own good.

“Wait, Hajime, so what you’re saying is that the scarecrow will _die_?” – This comes from Koutarou, who whisper-shrieks the last word.

Iwaizumi stares at his younger brothers and is abruptly exhausted. The little bit of excitement he’d built up after meeting a… _character_ like Oikawa melts away, leaving him feeling hollow inside. He thinks, for the millionth time that day, that his happy ending must- has to be in this shop. It’s the only explanation- justification, even, for all the long dreary years he’s spent alone here, while his brothers gallivant around outside.

It’s not their fault, really- it’s practically an unspoken rule in Market Chipping that the younger children must be given the freedom to grow up, away from their homes. Afterall, you never know who will be the next stuff of legend, and who wants to be reduced to the role of stuffy guardian? The silence stretches on in Iwaizumi’s head.

“We’ll start locking up then. Go back first and get some sleep, Hajime. You look exhausted.” Tetsurou waves a hand and smiles, perceptive as always- he pushes Koutarou in the direction of the storeroom, who glances back over his shoulder at Hajime like he’s just starting to realise something is wrong.

Nothing is wrong, Iwaizumi repeats to himself mentally. It’s just been a long day, filled with surprises and Oikawa Tooru, who’d offered him a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a hat for him. A _hat_ , which Iwaizumi excels at, and is probably pretty much the only thing that makes him worth talking to in Oikawa’s eyes.

Iwaizumi trudges back to their house, pretending to ignore the concerned glances that Koutarou and Tetsurou send his way. He goes the hell to sleep and does a shit job of not thinking about Oikawa Tooru, his offer, his moving castle, and those damn eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer chapter! Thank you for the encouraging comments on the previous chapter- it really does keep me going HAHAHHA. In all honesty I'm kinda figuring out the story as I go along too so let me know if you spot any inconsistencies, cos I hate confusing readers!!!


	3. iwaizumi hajime is old at heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi transforms into an old man, and makes a few decisions.

Iwaizumi wakes up, yet again, in the shop.

He’s a little slower to react this time- he had fallen into the kind of deep, dreamless sleep that he only really gets when his brain is worn out, too exhausted to even conjure up the fanciful landscapes and bewitching colours that he’s only ever allowed himself to speak of in his hats. If Iwaizumi’s dreams could speak, the stories of his hats would tell themselves.

In his dreams, his chest aches deep blue, his hands a restless red, and he is the prince, the pauper, and the witch all at once. He sees the black-and-white of Koutarou’s spiky hair and the daydream hazel of Tetsurou’s eyes, all playing out against a backdrop of a dreamless yellow. The Fates murmur amongst themselves and watch him with those fathomless black depths, threads weaving around them to form tapestry upon tapestry. Iwaizumi watches himself dip a feathered quill into a dark brown ink that burns words across stone. When he looks at his right hand, a blonde lock of hair curls itself intimately around his little finger.

Iwaizumi thinks he is still wandering amongst the lost lands, until a cool hand brushes his forehead.

His eyes shoot open, and he scrambles out of bed- no, he falls right off the counter, even though he distinctly remembers falling asleep in bed at home. Iwaizumi’s heart pounds, heady with a distinct thrill of seeing Oikawa Tooru again. Maybe this time he’ll allow himself to find out more about the hat Oikawa wants- he won’t follow him back to the castle, he _can’t_ , but maybe he can entertain the thought of making a hat for him. His traitorous mind immediately conjures up flowery lines to match the bloom of Oikawa’s smile, pretty words for a pretty boy, all neatly packaged in a hat made by Iwaizumi’s own hands.

The hand doesn’t linger on his forehead, immediately drawing away the moment Iwaizumi stirs, which makes him raise an eyebrow. If anything, he’d thought that Oikawa would sneak in a head rub. When he finally rights himself though, he chokes on something that feels like fear.

The two men standing in front of him tower over him, shadows ominously looming and shifting in the flickering yellow lamplight. Iwaizumi stares at the deep black of their shadows, which almost seem to hiss at him as they languidly writhe and twist across his walls. He then stares at their unmoving figures and takes a deep breath. _To hell with it_ , he tells himself with false bravado. If he could handle Oikawa, these two should be a piece of cake. He ignores the little voice inside that tells him Oikawa had almost seemed to _like_ him.

“So you’re Iwaizumi, huh? The milliner?” The pink-haired man’s voice is low and smooth, and curls uncomfortably around Iwaizumi’s throat.

“Don’t be stupid, Makki. Do you see any other black-haired man with big arms around here? Besides myself, of course.” This comes from the other stony figure, with thick eyebrows slanted intimidatingly across his face, and an indiscernible smirk on his face.

“Mattsun,” this _Makki_ whines, “don’t be mean. And stop flirting!”

Mattsun raises a lazy eyebrow- “You call this flirting? Compared to the shit this man must have put up with when Oikawa came over?”

Iwaizumi distinctly feels his heart skip a beat, then roar alive frantically in his chest. Friends of Oikawa’s?

The two of them must catch the little flicker of hope on Iwaizumi’s face, because there’s really no other explanation for the way their shadows suddenly drop low and begin to stalk forward towards him. They remain immobile, though, only watching him carefully. Finally, the one with the black hair (Mattsun?) speaks up, though his tone is ginger, which confuses Iwaizumi, because what does he have to fear around a mere human like Iwaizumi?

“I’m sorry it has to happen this way, but Oikawa literally has not stopped whining for the past few hours. And knowing him, it’s going to continue until you visit him of your own will. We’re just…expediting the process.”

“Oh, and you won’t be able to tell about us. Just in case Oikawa gets it into that pretty little head of his that we need to be banished to the Hinterlands, so.” Pink-hair speaks up too, wringing his hands and looking a little nervous, but not really very sorry at all, Iwaizumi thinks with a bleary sense of alarm.

“You won’t be able to tell anyone about this,” Mattsun grins and waves a hand at Iwaizumi, looking vaguely apologetic, “or it won’t be of any help at all. To Oikawa, I mean.”

The alarm grows steadily in Iwaizumi’s chest.

“Look, we promise you- give it some time, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll change you back. It’s just that we- he really needs this, and I haven’t seen him so worked up over anybody in a long time.” Makki looks thoughtful, keen gaze running over Iwaizumi, who wonders with uncontrollable dread if his legs will carry him out of the shop.

Finally, the two men take a step towards Iwaizumi. Their shadows subsume his own, and the world falls past Iwaizumi in a voiceless blur.

When Iwaizumi wakes up, it’s to the sound of Koutarou and Tetsurou yelling at each other, voices clearly visible even over the din of the steam engines roaring outside his window. He smells bacon being fried, along with the healthy sizzle of butter which he’s sure Koutarou’s put too much of as usual. He looks around his room, dull blue walls utterly unremarkable as always, with absolutely nothing to show for the unsettling dream he’d had last night. He wonders with some bitterness if he should paint his room a light yellow instead- _like Oikawa’s hair_ , his mind chimes in.

“SHUT UP, TETSUROU! I’m telling you, the scarecrow visited me last night.”

“Oh? And if that was the case, why didn’t it stick around to give you a good morning kiss?”

“Maybe it was shy! Stunned by my good looks!”

“Koutarou, why would a magical scarecrow visit you, only to leave no message?” Tetsurou says in a tone that he probably thinks it’s reasonable, but really only serves to fire Koutarou up more.

“I swear I saw it! It was right by my bed and it stared at me kinda judgingly. I don’t know how it did that though since technically it doesn’t really have a face? But it was here, and there’s a bunch of weird small dents on my bedroom floor! I think it was the scarecrow hopping around!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t even need to leave his room to imagine Koutarou jumping up and down to demonstrate how he thinks a scarecrow would walk.

He decides to lie in bed just a little longer, mind running through his list of existing orders (that he really should start on. The floor needs to be mopped, the candles need to be replaced, and the hats need to be rearranged. There’s a little pang in his heart when he thinks of the way Oikawa had fairly gleamed in his dull little shop last night- someone as beautiful as him really had a way of casting everything around him in a shadow of its former self.

Finally, he decides that he needs to come back to the reality he’s been presented with. There is simply no space for moving castles and uneasy dreamscapes and riotous colours in Iwaizumi’s quiet little life. He chooses to be content with a banal existence, and it is what it is, really. His life will play out in front of his eyes seamlessly, the hats he creates will be more beautiful than ever, Market Chipping will continue to flourish quietly, Koutarou and Tetsurou will eventually leave to seek their fortunes, and…and Iwaizumi will stay here until he dies.

When he stretches and catches sight of his hand, he thinks that that day might be sooner than he thinks.

Iwaizumi falls out of bed, and his back hits the wooden floor with a loud, solid thump that hurts much more than it should. He contemplates the ceiling for a few heart-pounding moments, then shakily raises his hand to look at it again.

His skin is more or less the same colour- but that’s where the resemblance ends. What used to be a healthy tan now reminds Iwaizumi of the dead leaves that accumulate on the streets after a particularly long autumn, all papery thin and wispy edges. The wrinkles are etched deeply into his skin, his fingerbeds yellowing and frail, and the bluish-green colour of his veins are clearly visible under the pallor of his aged skin.

Iwaizumi raises a hand to his face. Pats his cheek to confirm the droopiness of his skin, and the creases on his forehead. Even his vision feels slightly blurred, but that could just be the panic talking.

“Hey, hey, Hajime.” He creaks out one sentence in an attempt to convince himself that he’s still dreaming and is rudely jolted back to reality. He drags a hand over his eyes, hauls himself off the floor, and very _very_ slowly walks to the mirror.

He’s confronted with a living, breathing, version of himself in…50 years or so, maybe. On second look, the wrinkles on his forehead are a mirror of him when he’s bent over his latest creation and the seams just aren’t working out. There’s that familiar crinkle next to his mouth when he smiles, and his eyes are the exact same shade of green.

Still, Iwaizumi has to try his best not to stumble back in shock and fails spectacularly, if the squeak coming out of his mouth is anything to judge by. At least he falls back onto the bed this time though. He does his best to push the raging panic to the back of his head, mind working quicker than it’s ever had to in his life. Is his lifespan now down to the next twenty or thirty years? Is he ill? What should he do now? What will happen to the shop?

Then a little piece of the puzzle falls into place with a click.

The two…figures last night had mentioned Oikawa, and he’s pretty sure it’s not his stupid infatuation talking. As far as he can remember, he had gone to bed as a perfectly normal young man, and then woke up like this. Which means that everything had happened while he was sleeping, with the unfortunate side effect of it actually manifesting in real life. Which also means that this was, at the end of the day, all about magic.

And Oikawa.

There’s a thud, and then Tetsurou’s half-bored, half-amused voice rings out right outside his door.

“Hajime, it’s almost 9. What, stay up too late last night thinking about someone?”

Iwaizumi kind of wants to punch Tetsurou for how spot-on he is. He thinks about his current predicament and decides not to involve his brothers. Silly as they may be, they are also fiercely loyal, and would probably get themselves into way more trouble than needed. Track down those two men and punch them, thus getting themselves turned into pigs, for example. No, Tetsurou and Koutarou cannot know about this, he sighs.

Clearing his throat softly, he manages to croak out, “I’m not feeling well today. You two go ahead and have breakfast, and I’ll come find you in the shop when I’m better.”

“Hajime, you sound exactly like an old man! Do you want some medicine? I’ll have it for you in a jiffy.” The handle creaks like Tetsurou’s got a hand on it.

Iwaizumi panics. “No, no, don’t come in! I’m super sick and I don’t want to spread it to you.”

The handle pauses. “Well, if you’re sure.” Tetsurou sounds dubious, but his footsteps fade away, and Iwaizumi heaves a sigh of relief.

“Just take care of the shop till I’m back,” he calls as loudly as he dares, privately adding _though God knows when_ after that.

Iwaizumi takes a quick look around the room. There really isn’t much. His walls are sparse, with one picture of him, Tetsurou, and Koutarou hanging in front of his bed, and another family photo from when Koutarou was born on his dresser. His parents’ letters lie tucked away in a small chest-of-drawers next to his bed, and his clothes- all dull, boring colours, he thinks- are folded away neatly in the small oak wardrobe.

If he leaves right now, what ties him to this home besides his brothers? Who may one day leave forever?

The knot of sadness only seems to grow in his chest, so Iwaizumi busies himself with packing. First, he changes out of his loose cotton pyjamas, choosing a sage green tunic and some brown trousers. Nothing fancy, but strong and thick materials for the journey that lies ahead. He packs a change of clothes- his favourite sky blue mandarin-collared shirt and some khaki trousers. Maybe a book? He stares at the latest edition of Shonen Jump and decides against it. 70 year olds don’t exactly read manga, do they?

He’s about to sneak out of the room when his gaze snags on the latest letter from his parents, still lying on his dresser, along with that beautiful bolt of Chinese silk they had sent over. Iwaizumi doesn’t really know what overcomes him at that point- it could be the thrill of setting off on an unknown journey, mixed with the melancholy of knowledge that life as he knows it could very much be over. It could be the way that Oikawa’s blonde curls had gleamed in the moonlight shining in from the large French windows of his shop, the glossy sheen of them making him not want to blink. Whatever it is, Iwaizumi finds himself reaching for the silk and carefully putting it into his bag.

Next, he carefully opens the door. From here, he can smell the soap they use to wash the dishes, which means his brothers have finished their breakfast and are probably back in their rooms, getting ready for the day, and especially since both of them have hairstyles which require a good bit of wrangling. It’s nice to know that Tetsurou and Koutarou wolfed down bacon and eggs while he was having an existential breakdown in the room over, but that isn’t the point. The point is that he can now get food from the kitchen, and then be on his merry way.

He sneaks into the kitchen, all while keeping a keen eye and ear out for his brothers. It isn’t sneaking as much as it is walking quietly and hoping his cranky hip doesn’t creak, but he makes it, and casts a critical eye over the contents of their pantry.

He really would love to take that entire shoulder of smoked ham, he really would, but then he hears footsteps and freezes. In the end, he grabs a baguette- _one damn loaf? Really?_ his brain rudely yells- and a block of cheese - _and not even the good kind_ , his mind snarks- and then he’s running for dear life and out on the streets before he knows it, barely remembering to grab his trusty straw hat on the way.

The sun smacks him in the face like a particularly irritating chipper child. The din of the crowd on the streets on a Sunday morning almost knocks Iwaizumi off his feet, and probably really would have if a solid hand hadn’t grabbed his arm. Iwaizumi looks up to thank the stranger and finds himself staring into Sawamura Daichi’s eyes.

Daichi, who is also one of his oldest friends, and apparently does not recognise Iwaizumi at all, he realises with a sinking heart.

“Be careful, Ojisan.” Daichi smiles. “It’s always busy out here.”

Iwaizumi tries for a smile and sort-of succeeds. “Thank you, Dai- young man.”

“Ojisan, you just came out of the Iwaizumis’ shop, didn’t you? That looks a lot like my friend’s hat.”

Iwaizumi feels his sweat start to trickle down his face. Backing away, he shrugs ambivalently, saying that he really must be on his way.

“Where are you going, Ojisan? I have my cart here,” Daichi jerks a hand back at the cart full of straw behind him, “so maybe I could give you a lift.”

“Oh, never mind,” he tries, but he doesn’t get to finish the rest of his sentence before Koushi materialises out of nowhere behind him and cheerfully claps a hand on his shoulder. Damn it, Koushi, he thinks miserably.

“Let him do it, Ojisan. He’s young and has way too much energy, if you ask me.” Koushi pauses to leer at Daichi. Iwaizumi thinks with a dim horror that he could probably go for the rest of his (shortened) life without knowing anything about his friends’ sex life.

Finding himself with no excuses (and laden with an aching hip and sore back), he gets onto the back of Daichi’s cart and asks him to take him to the outskirts of town, past the farms and as near to the moors as he can get.

Daichi raises an eyebrow.

“There’s nothing out there, Ojisan. I think Oikawa’s castle is around here too. Are you sure you’re going in this direction?”

“Yes, I’m going to visit my…brother.” Iwaizumi laughs awkwardly and reaches up to fiddle with the wide brim of his hat.

The cart trundles up the grassy slopes. Their field of visibility is reduced as Daichi draws nearer and nearer to where the cottages trail off, and the fog begins to roll in. It feels like no time has passed at all, Iwaizumi thinks, as he stares at the winding misty paths that await him. Or maybe his entire life was made to lead up to this very point, to wait for the sun to cease its brilliant half-arc in the sky to hide behind the moon- for Iwaizumi, who sees the path for the very first time.

Daichi stops at the edge of the moors with a loud creak. He looks at the mist that lies ahead, then looks back at Iwaizumi dubiously and raises an eyebrow.

“Brother?”

Iwaizumi ignores the question. “Thank you, young man. I really should be on my way now.”

He forces himself off his perch atop a bed of fluffy straw and offers a smile that he hopes is reassuring. He takes one step towards the moors- and then another, and one more, and then again.

“Ojisan,” Daichi calls out from behind him. “Are you a wizard?”

Iwaizumi stops. Thinks about everything that has transpired in the past 24 hours. He grins to himself and takes a few more steps.

“I’m not a wizard, Sawamura Daichi.”

Iwaizumi is no wizard. But he will finally have to step out of the shadow of his name, his lineage, and the ever-present weight of his own doubt. Maybe this is his own story, he thinks.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and disappears into the mist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer to post than I'd prefer :") i would love some comments thank u <3


	4. the moving castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi finally enters the moving castle.

An hour later, Iwaizumi is cursing the day that those two men were born. His knobbly knees hurt like hell, his back is stiff and sore, and he might actually kill for an armchair. The image of the pink-haired man saying in that soft, slinky tone of his that Oikawa might  _ need _ him rises up unbidden in his mind, and Iwaizumi chokes down a nervous gulp.

Iwaizumi decides that he needs a break- and a chance. Tearing off a hunk of bread and cheese, he half-collapses onto the grass and finally, finally allows his eyes to drift off into the distance. His entire day has been nothing but something straight out of a fevered nightmare, too hot and too real and too pressing behind his eyes for him to pretend that he isn’t absolutely terrified.

The questions burn relentlessly. What will he do when he’s found Oikawa? Where is Kageyama, exactly? And where is Oikawa?

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath. The bread tastes like shit. The cheese is far too crumbly. And he is now in the body of a 70-year-old man (give or take). These are the only truths that he can cling to, none of which answer his questions, but give him a little comfort that he so desperately needs in the face of the howling wind.

Then the wind itself stiffens, the fog yawns and parts, and the moving castle dances up in front of him.

Iwaizumi scrambles back before it can crush him. In the midst of his shock, he catches glimpses of its true form- a ramshackle heap of structures that looks like something straight out of a blacksmith’s nightmare. There is a random cottage piled on top of what looks like a hangar, and that is the most coherent thing about the…castle, if one could call it that.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t crush him. Instead, it shudders to a stop in front of him, revealing a sturdy-looking porch with a small yellow lamp dangling precariously above the door. Iwaizumi eyes the wooden door warily. All things considered, it looks surprisingly…normal. 

Just as he’s deliberating if he should make his way nearer to it, the door swings open, and Kageyama appears in the doorway, steel-blue eyes glinting in the soft light of the lamp.

Iwaizumi feels the little ball of worry in his stonach that he didn’t even  _ know _ he had dissolve. He belatedly realises, then, that it feels like a lifetime since he last saw Kageyama, even though it was really only just yesterday. And as much as Kageyama may be young and foolish and Oikawa dances on the knife’s edge of being mischievous and downright sly, he trusts both of them separately. Sort of. Maybe. Together is another thing though.

Kageyama looks. Well. Happier than Iwaizumi’s ever seen him, though it might be difficult to spot to the untrained eye. There is a glow on his face that Kageyama usually only reserves for sports, carpentry, and…Hinata, in recent weeks. That must explain it, Iwaizumi thinks drily. 

“…yes?” Kageyama raises an eyebrow, which causes Iwaizumi to fall into a fit of mental conniptions. He’s never heard Kageyama talk to him like this before- nor has he seen Kageyama like this, so cocky and sure in his own skin and well. Young. Which reminds him painfully of his own predicament all over again.

Iwaizumi realises that he’s paused for a beat too long, because Kageyama is beginning to tap his foot impatiently. He clears his throat and tries for a feeble croak, though it doesn’t take any effort at all, really. He’s exhausted.

“I was wondering if Oikawa is in.”

“And you are….?”

“You can call me….Iwa.”  _ Good job, Iwaizumi,  _ he berates himself mentally.  _ Good thing you look at least 50 years older.  _ He hesitates- wonders why he’s so afraid to reveal his identity to Kageyama. He thinks of that burning feeling he’d had in his throat upon rejecting Oikawa’s request. Would Oikawa be delighted, maybe, then Iwaizumi has come? Or will he simply send Iwaizumi away, like he’s just one of the stars that must make up Oikawa’s ever-expanding sky? 

Kageyama says nothing, but the quirk of his mouth says it all. Iwaizumi sweats. Kageyama shrugs.

“Come on in then, Iwa-san. The castle stopped for you, so you’re probably important,” Kageyama backs into the castle and jerks a thumb backwards over his shoulder, “Calcifer doesn’t open the door for just anyone, you know.”

Iwaizumi nods gratefully and half-hobbles onto the porch, stopping in the doorway to turn back and look at the wild moors. The fog continues to roll in great misty waves, leaving droplets that glisten faintly on Iwaizumi’s clothes. He reaches a wizened hand up to his trusty straw hat. Jams it further onto his head. He thinks he hears a soft thump somewhere above him, but he supposes that this is no time for hesitation.

He takes a deep breath, thinks of the low-hanging moon over Market Chipping, and steps into Oikawa’s moving castle.

His first impression is that the castle is dusty, and a lot smaller than it looks. The cobwebs drape themselves across the ceiling and a number of unmentionable corners, dirty plates piled high across the single wooden table that rests crookedly across the fireplace.

A boy with a head of hair as bright as the flames that crackle in the fireplace sits on the table, hands fiddling with a little ball of straw. He looks up as Iwaizumi steps in, and gasps in shock. Iwaizumi feels mildly offended. Does he look that hideous? He then belatedly realizes that this must be the infamous Hinata.

Hinata hops down from the table and races to a stop before Iwaizumi. He peers up at Iwaizumi, who thinks with some amusement that he is  _ tiny _ . Which Hinata seems to realise, because a pout crosses his face as he declares,

“You’re shorter than Kageyama! But still so tall!”

Kageyama scoffs loudly, not bothering to hide his contempt at all. 

“Idiot, everyone is taller than you.”

“That’s not true!”

“Is.”

“Is not.”

Iwaizumi watches this exchange with great interest. For all of Kageyama’s youth, his general stern disposition and the hard lines of his non-existent smile mean that he very rarely gets to banter with someone around his age. He thinks with some guilt of the two boys he’d tried to get to play with Kageyama- Kunimi and Kindaichi?- and how Kageyama hadn’t spoken for a whole day after that disastrous meeting.

This Hinata though, is something else.

The flames roar- literally roar, because everyone’s attention is directed over to the fireplace. Iwaizumi thinks dizzily that magic really  _ is _ real, even as he catches sight of a growly face in the red-hot fire- one which winks at him. 

“Ah, say hi to Calcifer! He’s a fire demon! He moves the castle around and keeps us safe!” Hinata exclaims giddily as he dances over to the fire and throws in a few pieces of wood. “He stopped for you, you know.”

“What’s your name, by the way?” Hinata looks over, eyes bright with enthusiasm. Iwaizumi thinks with a start that a boy so full of life really must be doing wonders for Kageyama.

“Call me Iwa.” Iwaizumi smiles awkwardly. He idly wonders where Oikawa is, walks over to the fireplace upon Hinata beckoning, and leans down as much as he can to make eye contact with the small curious face beaming at him. 

“Iwa-san, you’re under a spell, aren’t you?” This…Calcifer grins slyly at Iwaizumi, licking his metaphorical lips. “Oh, and quite a complex one too, isn’t it? Looks like the work of…hmm. Two people?”

Iwaizumi feels his heart speed up.  _ Yes _ , he wants to yell from the rooftops,  _ two strange men walked into my shop and made me fifty years older than I actually am, so it would be great if you could reverse this spell so that I don’t die in twenty years instead of seventy! _

He thinks all this in his head- in reality, his lips are sealed dead shut. It’s a rather horrifying feeling, Iwaizumi thinks with growing wrath, swearing to himself that the two men who did this to him are absolutely dead meat if he ever sees them again. As hard as he tries, his mouth remains stubbornly closed, resulting in an interesting series of muffled grunts and eloquent swears.

The three people- well, Iwaizumi’s not quite sure if Calcifer counts as a human, but the sentiment is there- watch in silence as Iwaizumi struggles with his own mouth. “Ah, it’s one of those spells where he can’t say anything,” Hinata sighs sympathetically, “I’m not sure even the Great King will be able to solve it.”

“The Great King? Is that what you call Oikawa-san?” Kageyama sneers at Hinata, who quickly turns red and balls up his fists to feebly swing at him, which Kageyama easily sidesteps and then catches hold of one small hand.

_ Ho ho ho _ , Iwaizumi thinks with the first tinge of amusement he’s had all day,  _ things really are getting interesting _ . He watches as both of their faces abruptly burst into (metaphorical) flame. He then realizes what Kageyama had said. 

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi says as disinterestedly as he can. “You mean the great wizard Oikawa Tooru? The stuff of Market Chipping legend? The eater of maidens’ hearts?”

The funny niggling feeling he’s had all day only grows as Hinata and Kageyama share a loaded look. Hinata shuffles nervously and tugs at a little tuft of hair that’s sticking out. Kageyama looks…well, like he always does, but his fingers are starting to fidget in a dead giveaway. 

“Ah, Iwa-san. You must be here because you’re under a spell and need the Gr- Oikawa-sama’s help right?” Hinata makes a thoughtful face and adds yet another log to Calcifer’s eager grin, who cackles and shoots a jet of flame to the ceiling. 

Iwaizumi’s not quite sure what he can say at this point, so he shrugs and asks- “Where’s Oikawa-san?”

This time, it’s Calcifer who answers in that growly voice of his. “We’re not quite sure, honestly. That man always does his own thing, but he always comes back at night. But then again, I think Kageyama here gave him quite the shock, what with that red bowler hat of his.”

Iwaizumi swerves around to stare at Kageyama, who fidgets and touches the hat on his head. To absolutely no one’s surprise, it’s the hat that Iwaizumi had given him just- what, yesterday? 

“The hat led Kageyama here,” Hinata says in a weirdly strangled tone- Iwaizumi realizes that he’s  _ shy _ \- “so Calcifer had to stop for him. We don’t really know what kind of magic it is either, only that it’s very old and very strong. Oikawa-sama went to find the person who made it yesterday, but he hasn’t been back since then, and it’s pretty late now. But I’m sure the Great King can take care of himself!” He finishes off in a chirpy tone. 

Iwaizumi is left feeling more bewildered than ever. The hat he made led Kageyama here? Out of some strange protective instinct, he reaches out to touch the hat that’s still perched atop Kageyama’s head, who starts and moves away. 

“It’s a gift from my friend,” Kageyama offers awkwardly, “I don’t know how either, but after I put it on I was thinking about, uhm, him”- he jerks a thumb over at Hinata, who’s as red as his hair by now- “and then my legs just brought me here.”

Iwaizumi feels a bit dizzy. It must show on his face, because Kageyama and Hinata share a worried look and bring a chair over to him. Iwaizumi sinks into it gratefully and realizes that he hasn’t drank any water in a while- amidst the growing pit of worry in his stomach, he thinks of the words he had whispered into Kageyama’s hat, and the cryptic things that Oikawa had said.  _ “Besides, weren’t you the one who spoke a happy ending into-” _ before he had cut himself off. Now, Iwaizumi is pretty sure that Oikawa was referring to the hat. What  _ had _ he spoken into the hat anyway?

__

_ “You’ll be devoted, won’t you? Kinda intense though, so you’d better not scare off the ones you love. But you’ll still be happy, in the end.” _

__

Iwaizumi groans out loud and buries his head into his hands. God, he had spoken a  _ happy ending _ into the hat like he always did. The only difference was that he had been thinking of Kageyama’s forlorn face when he couldn’t find Hinata, the image lingering in his mind even as his fingers danced through stitches and seams, and he had found himself thinking of the strange pull between the two. If Oikawa’s theory about his hats having power is right, how many happy endings has he brought to life in Market Chipping over the past ten years, and does he still have absolutely no idea where or what his is? 

He feels his breath coming in great pants and gasps- but only to his own ears, which buzz violently with a vengeance that hurts his head and his heart starts to pick up and Iwaizumi feels like a damn  _ fool _ . For the first time ever, he acknowledges that hard seed of bitterness that has bloomed in his throat all of his life. It chokes him when he watches Tetsurou and Koutarou disappear from Market Chipping for weeks at a time, claws at his throat when he’s bogged down by the trivialities of running a shop and dealing with customers, and suffocates him when he’s reading the folklore of the town. The seed has only grown with every year of Iwaizumi’s life, and now it weaves and clutches its way up his throat, threatening to overwhelm him with bitterness.

He sneaks a peek at Kageyama, who’s bickering with Hinata over whether they should feed Calcifer yet another log. Despite his growls, he can’t fool Iwaizumi- Kageyama is happy. Perhaps happier than he’s ever seen him, to be honest. And if that’s the case, Iwaizumi thinks, then he has power- the kind of power that a boring oldest child should not have, he realises, staring down at his wrinkled hands. Is this why Oikawa had come to find him? To seek out that strange source of power? 

Hinata looks over at him and runs over to offer a glass of water, which Iwaizumi gratefully gulps down. It helps to clear his head- makes thinking a little easier past that fog of utter despair, which conjures up the memories of last night- the two men who turned him had obviously known Oikawa, and were probably familiar with him, if their fond tone had been any indication. The real question, then, is why? It can’t be just because he turned down Oikawa’s request for a hat, and he knows he hasn’t run into anyone like them before- they make quite the impression. He remembers what they’d said- that Oikawa needed help- and thinks of Oikawa’s completely relaxed and charming demeanour, punctuated by those brief moments of keen awareness. 

Iwaizumi thinks of the story of Oikawa Tooru, and shivers.

The fireplace crackles, and Iwaizumi looks over to see Calcifer beckoning him over. He walks over sluggishly and bends down to meet the little fire demon at eye level- for some strange reason, he’s reminded of his friend Nishinoya, who has that same devilish spark in his eye.

“Iwa-san,” Calcifer begins, “let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“About your curse, I mean. I can proooo-bably break it, under one condition.” Calcifer sings, dragging out the syllables of his words, and causing the flames to flicker strangely. Iwaizumi thinks he sees Oikawa’s face in them, all of that peculiar prettiness and confidence under a veneer of charm that blazes so brightly- he wonders how bright of a person he must be to believe so utterly in no one but himself.

“Are you asking me to make a deal with a demon?” Iwaizumi asks, snorting, “I may be old, but I’m not quite senile.”

“Ah, ah, I know you’re not quite that old,” Calcifer grins, all heat and teeth, “but I like you! And I like that hat on your head, so I’m willing to break your curse if you manage to break mine.”

Iwaizumi considers this for a moment. The seed shivers in his throat, tendrils curling and shrivelling this way and that, even as Iwaizumi swallows at the thought of returning to his old life and to all he’s only ever known.

“Alright then. What’s your curse?”

“Ah,” Calcifer laughs, voice sparking and crackling through the logs that he rests his head on, “that’s the thing. I can’t tell you.”

Iwaizumi clenches his fists, growling, “Then how the hell am I supposed to break your curse?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Iwa-san. You have it in you afterall.” Calcifer says cryptically, then refuses to say anything else, only shaking his head vigorously when Iwaizumi attempts to probe further. He’s this close to taking away Calcifer’s log when a gust of wind sweeps through the castle, and Iwaizumi shivers- not in fear, but anticipation. Calcifer looks strangely pleased as he announces-

“Ah. He’s back.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie- writing this is proving to be a lot more difficult than I ever imagined, so I'm really grateful for the commenters who look forward to each chapter!!! thank you so much!!!
> 
> btw, you can find me on twitter @soshiandsushi if you're into that- we can chat about hq and snsd and danmei!!!


	5. a heart's a heavy burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talking, lots of storytelling.
> 
> Chapter title is an actual quote from the Ghibli movie!

When the door sweeps open, everyone in the small space turns automatically towards the slender figure standing in the doorway, moonlight glinting off his blonde hair artfully swept to the side- it’s enough to render any hapless bystanders starry-eyed, Iwaizumi thinks grudgingly. Oikawa Tooru stands in the doorway for a moment, eyes sweeping across the room in an instant with that keen gaze of his- he raises an eyebrow at Iwaizumi but says nothing. He spares Kageyama a brief scowl and rolls his eyes affectionately at Hinata, who’s cowering in the corner for some reason.

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa stride purposefully up to Calcifer- watches him narrow his eyes questioningly at the fire demon and sigh before pressing the flat of his palm against his forehead, and then turns to Iwaizumi with that ever-winning smile of his. 

“I see Calcifer’s taken a liking to you, Ojisan. And may I know your name?”

“Call me Iwa,” Iwaizumi says gruffly through the roaring of blood in his ears, “and I’m here to help you clean this mess you call a castle.”

Oikawa cocks an eyebrow and grins. “I see you have some opinions about my castle, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m your elder, Oikawa…san,” Iwaizumi adds grudgingly. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Ah,” Oikawa sighs, “you remind me a little of someone I met yesterday, Iwa-chan. But he was much younger than you, obviously.” 

“And cuter.” He adds as an afterthought. Iwaizumi feels the blood go to his face, but thankfully no one notices- maybe being old has its perks after all, with that wizened skin of his.

Oikawa waves a careless hand at the door behind him. It clicks shut with a little whir of gears, a little coloured circle spinning furiously before the needle settles down. Iwaizumi notes all of this with his heart in his throat- he doesn’t know when he will next leave the castle, but he cannot discount the possibility that he will have to leave in the near future, if only to reassure his two younger brothers. 

“Oikawa-sama,” Hinata pipes up from the corner with a whine in his voice, “I’m starving. And Kageyama is too.”

Kageyama glares furiously at Hinata from where he’s standing awkwardly and wringing his fingers (again, Iwaizumi notes wryly), but doesn’t deny it. Oikawa sighs loudly and dramatically, scrunches his nose up at Kageyama, then turns around to lift his chin imperiously at Iwaizumi.

“Iwa-chan, can you rustle up something for the children? It’s late and I want to take a shower, scrub the stench of Shiratorizawa off my beautiful skin. Ushiwaka was especially annoying today.” Oikawa makes another face (that is still adorable, Iwaizumi’s traitorous mind notes), then flounces up the creaky old stairs, leaving a trail of faint vanilla in his wake. 

“Oh, Calcifer, send up some hot water please!” A faint voice floats in from upstairs, then a door slams, and Iwaizumi is left alone with the two troublesome children.

Before Iwaizumi can say anything, Kageyama makes a face at Hinata, hissing, “Did you really have to say that? You know Oikawa -san doesn’t have a good impression of me already!”

The smaller boy rolls his eyes. “Oikawa-sama doesn’t like you because you said his hair was too much. Who says that to the Wizard of the Moving Castle? Didn’t you grow up in Market Chipping? Have you not heard the stories? Stupid Kageyama!”

Kageyama turns red. “I thought you were joking! How the hell was I supposed to know that you were Oikawa-san’s apprentice? I’ve only heard about Oikawa-san, but no one ever told me he was so, so….” He casts about helplessly for a word while Hinata and Iwaizumi look on in amusement.

“Young? Pretty? Obnoxious?” Hinata offers helpfully. Kageyama lets out a growl through clenched teeth. Iwaizumi stays silent, only to be startled when Hinata bounds up to him with those large imploring eyes of his.

“Iwa-san, do you know how to cook? I’m soooo hungry.” Hinata whines. Iwaizumi gives him an incredulous look, looking pointedly at the eggs and bacon that lie clearly in reach, and the massive cast iron pan that looks like it could whip up a hearty supper for an entire marching band.

“Calcifer doesn’t let anyone but Oikawa-san touch the fire,” Kageyama pipes up, “he says it’s bad manners, but I think he’s just lazy. So we haven’t eaten the whole of today.”

Iwaizumi just raises an eyebrow at Calcifer, who smiles smugly at him in return.

“I wrangled two unruly younger brothers into submission, Calcifer,” Iwaizumi warns, rolling up his sleeves, “so don’t make me pull out my killer moves.”

He lifts up the large cast iron skillet and smacks it firmly on top of the flames. Calcifer lets out a loud whine, little tongues of fire twisting this way and that in a vain effort to avoid Iwaizumi’s manhandling.

“Ouch, ouch, Iwa-san! Stop that! How will you break my contract if you bully me?” The demon protests.

“I can do both at the same time, Calcifer.” Iwaizumi retorts, holding a glass of water threateningly over the flames. When Calcifer grudgingly concedes, Iwaizumi puts down the water and cracks six eggs with one hand into the skillet. He jerks his chin at Kageyama, who scurries over with a large pat of golden butter and gingerly throws it in, while Hinata whoops and places four thick slabs of bacon into the skillet. They fall silent and enjoy the hearty sizzle of the eggs frying in all of that bacon fat, ignoring Calcifer’s sulky silence.

When the food is ready, Hinata plates up the food under Iwaizumi’s watchful eye, and they sit down at the rickety little table. The table produces great big clouds of dust when Hinata attempts to sweep things off to make space, sending all of them into sneezing fits. This greatly alarms Iwaizumi, who takes note of the mountains of papers and books scattered haphazardly around, and the faintly musty smell that hangs unpleasantly over the room. Regardless, Hinata and Kageyama attack the food like animals.

“Hinata-san,” Iwaizumi begins, “don’t you clean this place? As Oikawa’s assistant?”

Hinata stops chewing and scratches his head awkwardly while Kageyama just scoffs. “The great king- ah, I mean Oikawa-sama, doesn’t really make me do anything. I mostly just run errands for him and he teaches me some magic in return,” he makes a face, “but I’m not very good at it. I’m much better at the physical things that involve magic. I’m pretty good in a fight!” He brightens up and starts to wave his arms around excitedly, nearly clipping Kageyama on the side of his head. 

“Ah, so you think you’re good at a fight, Chibi-chan?” Oikawa’s amused voice flits in from above, and he appears at the top of the sisters, gaze slowly taking in the bacon and eggs on the table, and then a sulky Calcifer.

“Great King! I’m just joking!” Hinata begs, eyes going wide with surprise. 

“Relax, Chibi-chan. I see you’ve got food.” Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi with one of those sparkling grins of his. “So, Iwa-san. How did you convince Calcifer to let you cook?”

“It wasn’t so much convincing as it was threatening.” Kageyama offers cautiously. Oikawa sighs and turns to Kageyama.

“Your friend didn’t seem to want to come to see you when I asked, Tobio-chan. He seemed rather confident that you would be fine alone here.”

“You- you went to visit Iwaizumi-san? Why? What did he say? How does he know I’m here?”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “Your friend wasn’t very welcoming. I don’t think he was charmed by my dashing good looks at all, he refused to make a hat for me and said that there was nothing magical about his hats.” He stomps over to the table and takes a big bite out of Kageyama’s eggs, ignoring Kageyama’s affronted gasp. 

“Iwa-chan doesn’t seem to believe in happy endings very much, Tobio-chan. He looked positively deflated when I brought that up.”

Iwaizumi goes into a coughing fit at that very moment, courtesy of the scalding runny yolks- Hinata, Kageyama, Calcifer, and Oikawa all glance over and raise judgmental eyebrows (though in Calcifer’s face it’s more of a little lick of a flame). Iwaizumi scowls and decides to attempt to change the subject from his personal beliefs to something less invasive. Inside, though, he squirms in discomfort.

“Oikawa,” he desperately begins, “your house is horrendously messy. How the hell have you and Hinata survived all this while?”

Hinata and Oikawa share similarly scandalized looks before whipping around to glare at Iwaizumi.

“It’s not a mess, it’s called being creatively disorganized!” Hinata yelps.

“I have a system in place, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa scoffs, flicking a bouncy blonde curl away from his forehead. 

“Sure, sure, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. The nickname slips out before he realizes it, and Hinata and Kageyama both spin around with similar expressions of shock. Iwaizumi flushes bright red. Thankfully, Oikawa seems to shrug it off with one of those brilliant grins, leaning forward to snag a piece of bacon off Iwaizumi’s plate.

“Are you offering to stay here and help me clean, Iwa-chan?” He purrs. Somehow, the knot of discomfort in Iwaizumi’s stomach dissipates with their easy banter. Iwaizumi finds himself thinking that it can’t hurt to stay in Oikawa’s castle for a while- just enough time for him to figure this curse out, maybe help Oikawa, get a message to his brothers (to stop them from running around to find him), and save the world while he’s at it, he thinks almost giddily. If Oikawa thinks he is magical, who is Iwaizumi to disagree?

“Yes, actually,” Iwaizumi surprises himself when he retorts, “you and Hinata need a cleaner and a cook, or you might just get crushed to death by either a pile of books. That, or your own ego.”

Oikawa’s smile crumbles for just a moment, those large brown eyes widening even as he moves a little nearer to Iwaizumi like he can’t help himself. 

“You’d be willing to stay, Iwa-chan?” His voice is softer than usual, with a strange note of sadness. Iwaizumi remembers the tale of the Oikawas and thinks that he might understand Oikawa just a little more- he thinks of the hats Oikawa had asked for and feels a twinge of guilt deep in his gut. It is a niggling feeling that compels him to nod in answer to Oikawa’s question. 

Oikawa smiles at Iwaizumi. It is a different one from the smiles Iwaizumi has seen so far- it is only a soft upturn of the corners of his mouth, one that doesn’t even show his teeth- yet Oikawa’s eyes lack that all-knowing gleam, and he smiles at Iwaizumi like he’s the answer to a question which he knows he cannot answer by himself. Iwaizumi’s knees shake under the weight of this smile, even as their gazes lock.

They are knocked out of their reverie by Hinata’s loud cheer. “Yay! If Iwa-san stays, I actually get to eat breakfast!”

Kageyama snorts loudly, but the fond look he sends Hinata’s way isn’t missed by anyone.

Oikawa joins them at the rickety little table, conjuring up a chair for himself out of nowhere. His knees knock against Iwaizumi’s knobbly ones, and Iwaizumi tries his best not to flinch away. Oikawa seems to notice and leans back, even as he sweeps a hand through Hinata’s curls and asks him for his latest progress on a spell. This fills Iwaizumi with a strange warmth. In the low crackle of the heat and light of Calcifer’s flames, Iwaizumi looks around at the room and thinks that he could stay here just for a while more.

When they finish gobbling up the food- Iwaizumi thinks amusedly that he should have made twice as much, given the size of Hinata and Kageyama’s appetites- Oikawa stretches and announces that he’s going to bed. 

He looks over rather pointedly at Hinata and grins. “Chibi-chan, we don’t have enough rooms for both Tobio-chan and Iwa-chan, so you’ll have to share with Tobio-chan. I’m sure you understand that the elderly need their rest right?”

Iwaizumi mentally rolls his eyes at Oikawa’s blatant lies- he’s sure the man could make extra room if needed, but shares a smirk with Oikawa anyway, as Hinata and Kageyama’s faces both turn a particularly interesting shade of red.

“But-but Great King,” Hinata stammers, “my bed won’t fit two people! Can’t Kageyama sleep in the living room or something?”

“Ah,” Calcifer speaks up, “I’ve been meaning to practise some spells for Oikawa, and I would prefer to do them tonight, so this space is going to be super bright.” 

“And extremely noisy, so I’m sure Kageyama-kun would sleep much better with you.” He adds as an afterthought. 

“Chibi-chan,” Oikawa’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “No one said anything about sharing a bed.”

At this, literal steam comes out of Hinata’s ears- an unfortunate side effect of being the apprentice of Market Chipping’s most notorious wizard, Iwaizumi is sure. Hinata’s face is essentially a tomato as he yelps and drags Kageyama upstairs forcefully, yelling some garbled nonsense about good night and that Kageyama better not kick the blankets, you _asshole_.

Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Calcifer watch the two rapidly retreating figures with a sort of sadistic amusement. 

“Ah,” Oikawa sighs, “to be young and in love again.” He turns to Iwaizumi, abruptly sobering up and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Iwa-chan, that boy- Tobio-chan, and my little apprentice Hinata Shouyou- do you know them at all?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, feeling guilt creep into his stomach.

“If you didn’t already know,” Oikawa says with a conflicted expression on his face, “Tobio-chan wasn’t supposed to be able to find us. This castle, I mean.” He waves a hand distractedly at their surroundings.

“But according to him, his friend gave him a hat and that helped him find Hinata. His friend is...interesting, and very powerful. I’m not sure if he knew that they’ve got a thing for each other, but still,” Oikawa pouts, “Chibi-chan’s supposed to stay with me until he masters his style of magic.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at Oikawa’s childishness.

“What happened to the boy who doesn’t need anyone?” He blurts out without thinking.

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa’s eyes dim and momentarily hates himself. He thinks of the tale of Oikawa Tooru and instinctively moves closer to Oikawa- he doesn’t know what he can do, but a part of him merely wants to be near him and see that strange spark in his eyes again- if Oikawa Tooru is flame then Iwaizumi must be the hapless moth caught up in its ring of light. 

Calcifer burns oh-so-brightly in the background, and the room is quieter than ever. When he raises one wizened hand to Oikawa’s shoulder, Oikawa flinches away.

“Iwa-san,” Oikawa begins, “if you’re from Market Chipping, you must have heard of my story.” He abruptly looks tired- older, even, those golden curls of his lying flat against his head as he pulls out a chair and flops onto it.

Iwaizumi scratches his head. “I have heard some things, yes, but I’m not a maiden, so I’m going to assume I’m safe from the likes of you.” He deliberately keeps his tone light, if only so that that terrible sadness will leave Oikawa’s voice.

Oikawa offers up a half-smile and snaps his fingers at Calcifer, who obligingly dims down the roar of his flames. He leans in nearer to Iwaizumi- so near that Iwaizumi thinks giddily that he can see the golden flecks of his irises- and whispers.

“I don’t actually eat maidens’ hearts, you know.” Looking satisfied at the shock on Iwaizumi’s face, he rocks back, the chair letting out a solid thunk as it hits the floor. 

“Wait, then how the hell did the rumours start?”

“Oh, I started them myself.” Oikawa looks much too smug for someone with a reputation so nefarious- one that he seems to have crafted for himself. “Keeps the unwanted admirers away, you know?” He gestures at himself.

“I mean, I don’t blame them. I’d like myself too.” He sings and ducks away from Iwaizumi’s smack to his head.

“But the stories were getting a bit too much, at some point,” Oikawa makes a face. His tone is light, but the heaviness of his expression says otherwise. Iwaizumi thinks of the stories surrounding Oikawa- the ones he had grown up on. He looks at Oikawa in all of his blonde curls and wide brown eyes. Oikawa can’t be much older than him, can he? Where was he amidst the quiet and peaceful monotony of Iwaizumi’s childhood years? Did he have a loving family? Did his parents sing him to sleep each night while rocking him, soothed to sleep by the warm crackle of the fireplace? Did his parents tell him stories too, once upon a time?

Iwaizumi feels that strange pull yet again in the pit of his stomach. He reaches a hand out to Oikawa’s hair, wondering if those blonde curls feel as soft as they look. Strangely enough, Oikawa doesn’t shy away this time, only giving Iwaizumi a slightly wary look through those long eyelashes of his. Iwaizumi pets Oikawa’s curls in a wordless gesture of comfort and knows this is trust- the trust of a powerful wizard who could turn him into dust at a whim, and he wonders if Oikawa feels that same strange pull that causes him to gravitate towards Oikawa like a moth toward flame. 

Oikawa’s soft mouth is turned down at the corners as he turns towards Calcifer slowly, never breaking Iwaizumi’s gentle caress of his hair. He stares into the fire as he speaks, the words leaving him in the air of someone who has too much to say as they trip and sigh their way into the heavy stillness of the room. 

“You must know my story, Iwa-san, if you’re from Market Chipping.”

“I only know what I was ever told.” Iwaizumi says carefully. He quietly trembles at the rawness of Oikawa’s voice, so apparent in the slight hunch of his shoulders and the way his hands shake slightly as he conjures up a book and silently passes it to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi takes the thick tome and only needs to look at the cover before he knows- it is the folklore of Market Chipping, all bound up neatly in one leather-backed book. Most children in Market Chipping grew up on this book as their bedtime story, and Iwaizumi and his brothers are no exception.

Iwaizumi cannot help but think of one of the newest additions to the volume, which was really only a few years ago- the tale of Oikawa Tooru.

*

When Tooru was but a boy of seven, he realised the importance of threes.

There was no value in being the first, or the second- everyone in Market Chipping knew this. It was apparent in the pitying smiles sent his older brothers’ way, and how everyone fawned over Tooru as the third son of a third son of a third son.

There were _hopes_ for Tooru- that he might bring the Oikawas great wealth or fame or prestige- though in Tooru’s humble opinion, it wasn’t like his family really needed the money. The Oikawas had made their fortune off the backs of humble townsfolk who worked tirelessly to produce the finest of silks and linens fit for kings and queens- evident through the massive orders from the Shiratorizawa palace each year. 

When Tooru was four, he was sent to the Shiratorizawa palace to play with Prince Ushijima Wakatoshi, whom he was told would become the king of Ingary one day. To his credit, Ushiwaka-chan was a little less stuffy than he looked, but he always offered Tooru the best buttery biscuits and the fluffiest milk bread, so Tooru supposed he couldn’t really complain.

On his seventh birthday, a party was thrown for Tooru at the Shiratorizawa palace. All of Ingary’s elite was present for the party- all eyes on the Oikawas’ third son of the third son of the third son- a pedigree unmatched by most except the Ushijimas themselves. Tendou Satori shook Tooru’s hand with that manic grin of his, his flaming red hair uncharacteristically flattened into a semblance of neatness. Shirabu Kenjirou and Semi Eita thrust matching presents wrapped in silver paper and a gigantic red bow into Tooru’s hands, flashing him small smirks before they ran off hand-in-hand to terrorize the swans that swam idly in the lakes on Shiratorizawa’s massive grounds. Even Prince Akaashi Keiji from the neighbouring kingdom of Strangia had been present, as his mother, the Queen of Strangia, had made a private trip to Ingary in hopes of finding a long-lost childhood friend. 

In all, it was shaping up to be a rather good birthday, all things considered. The gigantic milk bread-slash-cake was a custom order, courtesy of the famous bakery Seijoh back in Market Chipping- it had survived the ride from Market Chipping to Kingsbury under Tooru’s watchful eyes and a lot of hand-wringing from his mother. Yes, Tooru thought smugly to himself as the palace’s servants lit up the seven great candles on his massive cake, he really was a blessed third son. 

“Would you like to make a wish, Oikawa-san?” Ushiwaka asked politely, handing him a small knife. 

“I’m getting to it, Ushiwaka-chan.” Tooru snapped. He leaned forward, aware of all the eyes on him, and thought as hard as he could. What did he need, really? He was pretty much set for life at this point despite only being seven, and it wasn’t like he had any evil step-siblings to contend with. When he was eighteen, he would probably leave Ingary- perhaps he could visit Prince Keiji first?- to seek his fortune, marry a beautiful princess, and then...and then what?

Tooru’s head swam as he struggled to focus on the flickering flames of the candles. The voices of his family and friends sounded very far away, even as a little spark fought its way up Tooru’s throat and _burned_ him from within, ice and fire twisting its way through his insides even as he silently writhed. 

Tooru screamed.

When he opened his eyes, a little ball of fire danced in his palm.

“Happy birthday, Oikawa Tooru,” the flames spoke, dancing on his palm and weaving their way through his hair. Tooru watched the wavering outline of a small impish face in the fire and forgot to scream for a moment, reaching out one small hand to poke the flames that licked at his fingers. They lapped at his fingers almost playfully, the white hot heat completely failing to affect Tooru in any way- he only felt the strangest pull of something unknown in his gut, and the calling of a force greater than he.

“I’m Calcifer. Your personal fire demon. We’re stuck together for the foreseeable future, by the way.”

“What?” Tooru asked. “Why are you my demon now?”

Calcifer sighed and crooked one bright finger made of flame. “C’mere, Oikawa Tooru.”

Tooru leaned closer to Calcifer, who smiled- all heat and teeth- before doing a cartwheel into the air.

“You are the third son of a third son of a third son, are you not, Oikawa Tooru?”

“Yes,” Tooru said proudly, puffing up his chest and completely forgetting his predicament for the moment. “That’s why I get to come and play with Ushiwaka-chan and everything and have such a big cake.”

“Such small dreams for someone so promising,” Calcifer tsk’ed, “what if I told you that you could be even more powerful with my help?”

Tooru narrowed his eyes at Calcifer and folded his arms across his chest. “Aren’t you a demon? The Market Chipping tales don’t have any good stories about you. Mother told me that I should never make a deal with a demon.”

Calcifer looked amused for a moment, if you could call a flickering flaming face that. “Ah, but I’m not just any demon. I’m your demon, created specially for the third son of a third son of a third son.”

“But what can you offer me in return, Calcifer?” Tooru shrugged and smiled, his grin uncommonly shrewd for a seven year old.

Calcifer remained silent for a moment. 

“Magic.” He finally purred, fingers snapping and crackling all around Tooru’s head. The visions exploded in Tooru’s mind- an inky black sky punctuated only by the white gleam of stars, a cottage perched on the edge of a flower-dotted lawn that stretched as far as the eye could see, the deep green of the eyes of a man with spiky black hair who seemed to stare at Tooru with his heart in his eyes.

There was a crack like thunder, and Tooru tumbled out of the visions with his heart in his throat. The magic welled up in his little finger and crested through his body- it was riding a wave that would never break upon the shore, it was soaring above the clouds and kissing the stars, it was freefalling towards the ground with nothing but the love of life in his veins.

Tooru stared at his hand for a heartbeat and crooked his littlest finger, and then Calcifer was whooping and zooming towards the ceiling in a shower of sparks, laughing and saying how addictive it was, and how _alive_ he felt.

“You’re a king now, Oikawa Tooru,” Calcifer cackled maniacally, but Tooru couldn’t hear him over the roaring in his ears. He closed his eyes and thought of the man with the spiky black hair who had looked at him like he cared very much. 

“Calcifer,” Tooru began, “who was the man in the vision?”

“Oikawa Tooru,” Calcifer boomed, “to rule the court, you must be heartless. Such is the curse of your power.”

Heartless? Tooru clutched at his chest and abruptly realised just how _light_ he felt. He opened his mouth- whether it was to scream or choke or demand further answers he too did not know, but then there was a silvery peal of bells that rang through the air, causing both Tooru and Calcifer to freeze in their tracks.

“We’ll have to talk another day, Oikawa Tooru,” Calcifer sighed, looking slightly deflated for a moment. “People are concerned, though-” he snorted, “what could they possibly fear for you? You have all of my power now.”

“We’ll have this conversation another time, Oikawa Tooru. I’m going to make you forget your visions, okay? They will have serious repercussions on your future, so let’s not hasten that just yet.”

The fire roared up around Tooru before he could protest, and then completely died away, along with Calcifer, who sent Tooru a wink before diving headfirst into his chest and disappearing into it, leaving behind mere wisps of smoke- along with a flabbergasted audience who had witnessed nothing of the exchange between Tooru and Calcifer apart from the all-consuming flames.

Amidst the screams and fuss, Tooru quietly folded all five fingers into a fist and fixed his cake, which had partially collapsed thanks to the heat of the fire.

“Are you ok, Oikawa-san?” A pink-haired boy demanded. He identified himself as Hanamaki Takahiro, the Shiratorizawa palace’s resident wizard-in-training, who had helped to quench the flames.

“Yes,” Tooru replied, still dazed, “I think I should be more than okay.” He had a vague niggling feeling at the back of his mind that he had forgotten something very important, but he didn’t know what it was. 

  
  


*

“Oikawa-san?”

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa jolt awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the table. He shakes his head a little and squints around the room with bleary eyes like he’s experiencing it for the first time, his faraway gaze making Iwaizumi ache deep and low with the yearning in his eyes. 

“Iwa-san.” Oikawa smiles absentmindedly. “How silly of me! Do forgive me for falling asleep- it’s not that I don’t enjoy your company, but it’s been a long day.”

“Old friends can be so exasperating at times, and especially when they’re looking out for you, you know?” he tacks on as an afterthought.

Iwaizumi looks at the bone-deep exhaustion on Oikawa’s face and wonders if he’s remembering his past again. The stories don’t talk much about Oikawa Tooru’s past- only the curse of his heart, that fights so valiantly to remain in this world. Calcifer has never been mentioned though- an inkling of an idea begins to form in Iwaizumi’s head.

“Oikawa-san,” Iwaizumi begins, “how much time do you have left?”

And maybe it’s because Oikawa just woke up and his defenses are down and he’s vulnerable, but the look of _defeat_ that flashes across his face makes Iwaizumi hurt. Still, he answers as jauntily as he can- but his usual flashy grin is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m not going to die anytime soon, Iwa-chan, so don’t get that look on your face.” Oikawa fiddles with a dirty fork on the table. “My friends cast a spell on me a few years ago to slow down the hardening of my heart, so I should be good to go for a couple more years at least.”

“Maybe we’ll die at the same time, Iwa-chan.” he jokes.

“Stop that.” Iwaizumi glares at him, surprising himself with the amount of heat in his voice. “Don’t joke about yourself- don’t joke about your life like that.” 

Oikawa stops fiddling with the fork long enough to send Iwaizumi a significant look beneath his lashes.

“And you, Iwa-chan? Were you going to tell me about the spell on you at some point? I’m not weak enough to not even be able to tell that there’s an aging spell on you, you know?”

Iwaizumi wants to flip Oikawa off, but he really has no right to- and Oikawa knows this too, if the snort he lets out is any indication. 

“I can help you, Iwa-chan. I may not know what you really look like, but I’d like to help you.” Oikawa leans forward again with wide earnest eyes, and the commiserating look he sends Iwaizumi’s way makes Iwaizumi feel all strange and soft inside.

“I can’t,” and it is this strange softness that makes Iwaizumi lower his voice in return. “I don’t know why or how either, and that’s about as much as I can tell you before my mouth gets zipped shut for me.”

“I guess we’re both under some strange curses, aren’t we, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa laughs- one of his real laughs that’s soft and sincere- and abruptly stands up. 

“Let’s go to bed, Iwa-chan. You can have the bedroom next to mine- we have a long day tomorrow, I think.” He says mysteriously.

“You need to help me convince Ushiwaka-chan that I’m useless.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and follows Oikawa up the stairs.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter doesn't leave you with more questions than answers LOL this is a REALLY LONG chapter so the next chapter is probably gonna take at least...a week.....
> 
> Still, a couple of things-  
> 1\. No, Oikawa doesn't remember Iwaizumi from the visions (I hope I made that clear enough, given the whole spiky hair and green eyes thing).  
> 2\. No, Oikawa doesn't know that Iwaizumi is the cute guy from the hat shop.  
> 3\. The Shiratorizawa flashback isn't in the MC fairytales, this is more of an Oikawa-centric dream sequence.  
> 4\. The curse will be fully explained in the next chapter, though I think there are enough hints sprinkled throughout the chapters for you to be able to guess!!  
> 5\. Catch that fun seijoh reference ahahha
> 
> thank you all so much for reading as always- the comments REALLY make my day man the adrenaline rush when I open up my email inbox to notifs from ao3 is indescribable!!!!


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